I remember that, as I continued to ask for the crucifixion and Jesus would transport me outside of myself, He would take me to the holy sites of Jerusalem where our Lord suffered His sorrowful Passion, and there we encountered many crosses. My beloved Jesus would say to me: “If you knew what good the cross contains within itself, how precious it renders the soul, and what a gem of inestimable value one acquires, who has the good of possessing sufferings… It is enough to tell you only that, in coming upon earth, I did not choose riches or pleasures, but I cherished as dear and intimate sisters, the cross, poverty, sufferings and ignominies” While saying this, He would show such taste, such joy for suffering, that those words pierced my heart through like many burning arrows, to the point that I would feel my life leaving me if the Lord would not concede me suffering. And with as much voice and strength as I had, I would do nothing but say: ‘Holy Spouse, give me suffering, give me crosses. From this alone will I know whether You love me – if You content me with crosses and with sufferings.’ And so I would take one of the largest crosses I saw, I would lay myself upon it, and I would pray Jesus to come and crucify me. And He would be so good as to take my hand and begin to pierce it with the nail. From time to time, blessed Jesus would ask me: “Does it hurt very much? Do you want me to stop?” And I: ‘No, no, my beloved, continue. It hurts, yes, but I am happy.’ And I had such fear that He might not complete the crucifixion, that I would do nothing but tell Him: ‘Hurry, oh Jesus! Hurry, don’t make it so long.’ However, when the time would come to nail the other hand, the arms of the cross would be too short, while before they seemed to be long enough to make it. Who can tell how mortified I would remain?
This happened many times, and sometimes if the arms were fine, the length of the cross was not enough to be able to extend my feet. In a word, something had to be missing so that the crucifixion would not be accomplished. Who can tell the bitterness of my soul and the laments I made to our Lord, who was not conceding me true suffering? I would say to Him: ‘My Beloved, everything ends in a joke. You used to tell me that You were going to take me to Heaven, and then You would make me come back to earth. Now You tell me that You must crucify me, and we never get to the complete crucifixion.’ And Jesus, again, would promise me He would crucify me.